


The First Time (Not Like the Others)

by CrazyTaraWitch



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:25:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyTaraWitch/pseuds/CrazyTaraWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when you think you know what's coming, a first time can still surprise you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s not like they had planned it. Not really. Emma buying flowers… that just happened.

  
She was walking by Game of Thorns and there was a bouquet in the window and she just couldn’t resist. She’d never had someone to buy flowers for before; well she picked a wildflower for Neal once, and he smiled and tied it to the mirror of the Bug and promptly forgot about it, but this was different.   
  
She wanted… god, she wanted so many things with Regina. She wanted to take care of her and make her smile and help her feel loved. And flowers, well, they were never exactly part of the game plan but she figured they couldn’t hurt ya know? Emma guessed Regina liked roses, but somehow that felt wrong for them—right for Regina maybe, but not right for who they were together. Instead she picked out every flower one by one; there was a lily and what she thought was a daffodil, and one rose of the deepest red she could find, but she couldn’t have told you the names of the others even for a bear claw. She picked them for their colours; six shades of red and pink, 3 purple, 2 blue, and one firey orange. She knew the mix was odd, the orange clashing with the purple and blue, and yet the colours just felt like _them_ —in the way they clashed and blended and never quite mixed but somehow seemed to work.   
  
Or maybe her taste really was as bad as Regina liked to tease.

The flowers hadn’t been a plan, and Emma hadn’t known Regina was making a nice dinner. It had surprised them both when Henry called to say he was spending the night with Ava and Nicholas. There was no arranging, no careful set up to get the mansion to themselves for a night.

But once Henry was gone for the night, and once Regina’s eyes had lit up at Emma’s awkward bouquet of flowers and she’d placed a soft lingering kiss to pale lips, once the wine was poured and Emma noticed the faint flush of Regina’s golden skin when she complimented the exquisite meal, they both knew what was coming. It had been two weeks since their first passionate kiss and in the days that had followed they couldn’t get enough of each other, soft hands exploring and tongues stroking, but never venturing below the waist. They both knew this night would be different, that clothes would fall away as easily as the last gaps between them.

 

Dinner was a quiet affair, words fading as stares lengthened. They pretended through the salad and the fish that it was a perfectly normal meal, but all pretense was lost when Regina took her first scoop of applesauce and for the first time in her life Emma Swan wished she were a spoon. Regina had barely finished her second bite when suddenly Emma’s lips were upon hers with a thrilling ferocity. The utensil clattered to the floor as her hands pulled the blonde tightly against her, her mouth now occupied with something far more pleasant.

No words were needed as they stumbled to the stairs, bumping against walls and tables in their blind need to stay fused together until finally Emma’s back collided with the bannister with enough force to push the air from her lungs, and then suddenly she was laughing, and then Regina was laughing, and somehow they couldn’t stop. Even as their chests continued to heave Emma’s arms circled Regina’s waist and brought the brunette back against her.   
  
Regina leaned her forehead against Emma’s, causing her gaze to drift down to where her breasts now pressed against the other woman’s with each burst of laughter. The sight was intoxicating, and whatever had been so damn funny a moment before fled her mind in an instant; she wanted her breasts against Emma’s, her _everything_ against Emma’s everything.

When Regina’s gaze lifted and met hers, the open need swirling in her near-black eyes took Emma’s breath away. Her hand reached up and tangled in dark locks as she pulled her almost-lover’s mouth to hers. The word struck her— _lover_ —and her whole body ached. She was going to touch and taste every inch of this magnificent woman; she was going to know every freckle that dappled her golden skin, every line that creased her perfect face, the rise and fall of her breasts, the way she looked when she came… She already knew Regina better than she’d known anyone, and soon—so soon she could taste it as surely as she could taste the wine on Regina’s tongue—she would know all of her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of past rape.
> 
> This chapter was intended to be the end of the story, but I've had some interest elsewhere in seeing a continuation. I won't promise anything, but if anyone would like to see more let me know. The more interest there is in another chapter (or a sequel), the more likely I am to write one :)

“Have you um… have you been with a woman before?” Emma asked cautiously, as close to shy as Regina had ever seen her, despite the hand drawing circles that slowly inched lower on the brunette’s hip.

“No, I can’t say that I have,” Regina admitted easily. Seduction had been a useful skill to her once, but despite her flirtation and suggestion she had never brought anyone to her bed as a play for power. Even Graham had been a (mostly futile) attempt to seek pleasure and affection. The only person she’d truly wanted she’d never gotten to have, and the first person she ever had she’d never wanted; it had been many years before she’d even  _wanted_ …

“So, it’ll sort of be your first time then,” Emma suggested. Her lips curled up slightly but her eyes held a look Regina couldn’t read, and suddenly fear gripped her.

_“It will be your first time_ ,”  _her mother had warned. “Your job is to pleasure the King, to make him feel grateful. The bedroom is where you earn your power, my darling girl. Play your cards right and your husband will be putty in your hands.”_

_She had still been in her wedding dress when he brought her to his chambers. The reception had been long, and she could smell the sweet wine on his breath. He didn’t speak, even once the door was closed. She couldn’t remember a single time he’d truly spoken to her since the day he proposed. She shuddered as he moved closer. She was gripped by so many fears, among them the terror that she wouldn’t be enough; that she would fail her mother, fail herself, that she would loose this one last chance at control._

_Her body trembled each time he touched her but she quickly discovered he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. And when she cried out as he entered her, he took her pain for pleasure._

_Her wedding night was only the first of many. Over the years she learned to play the game and pretend, to stay silent as the king ripped her apart a little more with each night unwillingly spent in his bed. But that first night... That was the night she learned that her body truly was a weapon, and she was its victim._

  
It was Emma’s voice that pulled her back. Emma grounding her as she had so many times before. Even during Emma’s first months in Storybrooke when all they did was fight, Emma had made her more present and alive than she’d been in decades.

This was  _Emma_. This was someone she could trust, someone she wanted. Someone she could love. She didn’t have to be afraid.

 

Maybe if she told herself that enough times she wouldn’t be.

 

“Come back to me,” Emma repeated gently, swiping a dark lock behind Regina’s ear.

“I’m right here,” Regina insisted, and in a moment she had Emma flipped onto her back and was straddling the younger woman’s hips, dark lips stretched in a tight smile.

Emma’s eyes darkened and she took a deep breath to quench the desire coursing through her. “You’re not,” she said softly. “Please talk to me?”

“I’m tired of talking,” Regina growled, leaning down and capturing Emma’s lips. The blonde’s resistance slipped as Regina’s tongue caressed, and yet a part of her felt that this kiss was wrong—somehow everything was wrong now and she had no idea what had happened. As Regina bit her bottom lip with nearly enough force to break skin, it was her confusion more than anything –certainly not a lock of want-- that caused her to pull back.

Emma placed her hands on Regina’s shoulders and pushed forcefully; a pang of guilt shot straight to her heart at the look of hurt and confusion that flashed across the features she had seen in pain far too many times.   
Regina quickly schooled her expression as she practically sprang across the bed to distance herself from the blonde. “I apologize Emma,” she said formally, back rigid and voice stiff. “I thought we both wanted this, but clearly I was wrong. If you don’t mind,” she added as her fingers gripped the sheet beside her, the only outward sign that she was less composed than she let on, “I think I’d like to sleep now.”

“Regina—“ Emma started, but the moment her hand touched Regina’s arm the woman yanked away as if burned. She was too stunned to speak as she watched the woman beside her slip further away. She clenched her hand into a fist and pulled it back; clearly touch was not her ally right now.

Emma took a deep breath and tried to think back through the last few minutes.

She had been teasing Regina about being with a woman… Was that it? It was hard to imagine Regina being nervous about sex, but then Emma had never heard anyone talk about gay relationships in the Enchanted Forest; was it some super taboo thing that was freaking her out? But since when did Regina give a damn about anyone’s expectations but her own? Emma sighed; it had to be something else, but what else was there? All she’d said was it would be Regina’s first—

It hit her so hard Emma felt like the wind was knocked out of her. Regina’s first time.  
How old had she been when she’d been forced to marry the king? 16, 17? Not old enough, it seemed, to have been with anyone else. Powerless to stop what happened, perhaps too young—or too twisted by her mother—to even know it was wrong. To know it wasn’t her fault.

And now here was Emma, here was Emma wanting her and pushing her away.  _Fuck_.

“Regina,” she murmured softly, scooting closer but making sure not to touch. “You know I want you, right?”

Her voice was hollow when she answered, brittle and absent of the rich tones Emma loved to hear, and she continued to avoid Emma’s gaze. “My body being wanted has never been the problem.”

All Emma wanted to do was pull Regina into her arms, but she forced her voice to sound stern. “If this were just about me wanting your body, we would have slept together years ago.” Emma watched the lines of her jaw tighten and her fingers still, but Regina gave no other response. “This means more than that.  _You_  mean more than that.”

Tentatively, Emma reached out a hand and laid it against the silken skin before her. Her palm came to rest on Regina’s lower back, and she let out a small sigh of relief as the rigid muscles melted into her. Regina finally turned to face her, dark eyes glistening but no longer far away.

 

“Regina, there’s a first time and then there’s a first time that matters. I know which I want to be for you.”

“Emma…” she trailed off uncertainly, no longer sure what she wanted from this woman who seemed ready to give her anything.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Emma said with a small shrug, as if Regina practically freaking out on her was no big deal. “We’ll wait until we’re both ready, until we both know we want this.”

“I’ve never… waited with anyone before,” Regina admitted almost shyly. “Not since Daniel.”

Emma smiled softly as she draped an arm around Regina’s waist. “There’s a first time for everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one was offended by the line about Regina and Graham. I’m not trying to make excuses for what she did or say it wasn’t wrong; I merely think power wasn’t the driving force, or at least not the only one.


End file.
